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Lent Devotions: No Hope There
The following devotion was featured in Unfinished, Church Anew’s Lent in a Box series for 2023. Learn more and purchase access to all the resources here.
No Hope There
Rev. Megan Graves
John 11:1-45 (read the passage)
Nope, no hope there.
No chance of anything good coming from that person.
Oh, that stinks. I don’t want to go near it.
That’s been too far gone for too long there’s no hope of any life coming from that anymore.
How many times have you looked out at the world and said one of these things to yourself? Often we look at circumstances that others find themselves in and write them off as a complete loss – there’s no hope for them, nothing good could come of it, no change possible.
Martha, though she hoped for a different outcome, held this attitude that there was no hope for her brother in this passage. She believed Jesus’s presence could have changed the outcome earlier, but now there was no hope of anything but what had already come to pass. Outside of the tomb, she proclaims, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.”
As she continues to feel hopeless about the situation, Jesus challenges her lack of faith: “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”
What happens to the world when we no longer live as though we believe in the power of God?
What happens when we lose hope in the movement of the Holy Spirit?
Scripture shows us that Jesus showed up to heal the sick, feed the hungry, to raise the dead, and more. When we believe that God still moves in such transformative ways, when we expect these things to happen in the world, and that sometimes God invites us to participate in making them happen, what a difference it can make. If we believe that God still moves in life giving ways, we will see the glory of God all around us.
Prayer
Life-giving God, help us to live and move in the spaces we are called to inhabit in such a way that we know the glory of God because of our belief. We give thanks for your continual work of bringing hope to the hopeless. In your name we pray, Amen.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Tell My Story
Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash
Content Warning: This post discusses depression and suicide.
Tell my story,
She said.
If it will help someone,
She said.
If it will give someone hope,
She said.
If it will make a difference,
She said.
If it will let someone –
Anyone –
Know that they are not alone,
She said.
If it will help someone believe in second chances
And forgiveness
And grace enough for today
And a God who loves, deeply loves,
She said.
Then tell my story.
Please, tell my story.
All she asked was that I change names and places
So that the truth in her story would
Be in the universality of the story itself,
Rather than in the specificity of her identity.
Tell my story,
She said.
And so I have.
For nigh on 30 years
I have done what she asked me to do –
Over and over again.
I have told her story.
It has been an immense privilege –
A gift
And an honor
To tell her story
In conversations
And devotions
And reflections
And sermons –
A story of
Grace
Mercy,
Forgiveness,
Love,
And hope –
So much hope.
Over the years,
Of telling her story,
She and I lost touch with each other.
As so often happens,
Our lives intersected
In a particular time
And in a particular place,
And the farther we both moved
From that intersection,
In time
And circumstance
And life experiences,
The fewer reasons we had
To stay in touch,
Until eventually –
We simply didn’t.
But she –
And her story –
Have continued to live
In my heart
And in my mind
And in my own reservoirs of hope,
As a tangible presence
Of promise,
An embodied sacrament of a living hope.
Then the other day,
Through the chances and
Happenstance
Of social media,
I learned that she had died –
Unexpectedly,
By her own hand,
Amid the crushing weight of depression.
She who had freely given me –
And literally hundreds of others
Through her story –
Hope –
Had lost all hope,
And surrounded by the overwhelming
Presence of its absence –
She took her own life.
In the days since I have learned this,
I have vacillated between
Sorrow
Grief
Guilt
Regret,
And probably a host of other things
That I haven’t yet been able to name.
At the same time,
I have remembered
Joy
Laughter
Deep conversations
Hard-won wisdom
Grace
Gratitude
Love
And yes –
Hope –
The hope that once
Bubbled up and out
From her like a river flowing full in springtime.
And in my remembering,
I still hear her voice
And her words –
Tell my story.
And so,
In her memory,
And in defiance of all that overwhelms
And presses in
And around
And upon
Any and all of us –
I do,
And I will
Tell her story -
In the sure and certain hope
That the truth which it speaks
Just might stir
Even the most sorrowing heart
to Hope once again.
As I have always done,
I will honor her request –
And now her memory –
By changing all recognizable details.
Mia was, what some might call,
A woman with a reputation.
Her life had been marked by
Challenges,
Difficulties,
Addiction,
Mental health struggles.
This reputation surrounded her –
Often preceded her,
And cast a shadow behind her.
Mia had not grown up
With a connection to
Any faith tradition,
But as an adult,
She had been baptized
And thought it important
For her children to be connected to,
Raised with
An understanding of –
And relationship to –
Church.
Her oldest son loved to sing,
And so the children’s choir
At the local congregation
Became their primary connection
To Church.
As happens with children’s choirs,
They would sing in worship on Sunday mornings.
When these Sundays
Came around on the calendar,
Mia would drop Michael off
At the curb
And tell him she would wait for him
To come out when he was done.
Every time,
Michael would beg,
Please come hear me sing, Mama.
And every time,
Mia would shake her head,
And reply with a variety of reasons
As to why that was not possible.
One on particular Sunday,
Mia dropped Michael off
As she always did.
The now-familiar
Back-and-forth
Played out like liturgy between them.
Please, Mama, come hear me sing.
I can’t, honey, you know that.
Please, Mama.
Not today. Maybe some other time.
You always say that.
I know. Maybe someday.
Promise?
We’ll see. I love you. Now go, before you’re late.
Love you, too.
And off he went up the sidewalk to the front door
Of the Church.
Sitting in the car,
Mia felt her heart racing
As the minutes ticked by.
The closer it got to starting time,
The more she wondered –
Maybe I should.
It would be good for Michael.
I could sneak in the back,
After everyone else is seated.
No one would see me.
I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.
And I could leave as soon as the song is done.
She played it over
Several times in her head,
And right before the bell tolled 10:00,
She slipped in the door.
The ushers were still in the narthex.
They exchanged glances
And raised eyebrows,
But one of them handed her a bulletin.
Without making eye contact,
She took it, and slid into the
Thankfully empty,
Back pew,
Just in time for the children
To take their places on the chancel steps.
As soon as Michael found his spot,
His eyes looked out
To the gathered congregation,
And to his surprise
And utter delight
He saw his Mom.
Without the slightest hesitation,
He waved one arm –
And then the other –
High over his head –
To make sure that she would see him.
Chuckles went through the congregation
As heads turned collectively
To see who Michael was waving at.
And then Mia saw them –
The pulled-tight-faces
On the turned-around-heads
Shaking,
Expressions of disgust.
And she heard it –
Two different people
Spoke words
Loud enough for her –
And everyone else to hear.
What’s she doing here?
Poor little boy.
Doesn’t even know what kind of mother he has.
It was all Mia could do to stay in that pew.
She wanted to flee
With every fiber of her being,
But she knew that if she got up and left then,
Michael would be devastated,
And the scene would be worse
Than it already was.
And so she stayed,
The heat creeping up her face,
And her palms turning clammy,
She stayed –
Determined to leave as soon as the song was done.
When the children were finished,
Michael took off down the center aisle
Toward his Mom,
He got to the back pew
Just as Mia was standing up to leave.
Michael, however,
Had a different idea.
He planted himself in the aisle,
Right at the end of the pew,
And pleaded with her to stay.
Not wanting to cause any further disturbance,
Mia sat down,
And Michael took his place beside her.
It was then
That Mia looked ahead in the bulletin.
She saw that Communion
Was to be celebrated on that day.
Good God,
She thought.
I can’t do that.
How long has it been?
I don’t even know how they do it anymore.
As the hymns were sung,
The sermon was preached,
And the prayers were prayed,
Mia decided that they would simply stay in the pew.
There was no way that she would
Parade up in front of all of those people.
When the time came,
One-by-one the ushers
Dismissed the pews.
With each passing pew,
Mia’s heart raced a little faster.
She had whispered in Michael’s ear
That they were not going to go up,
And she hoped that he would listen.
When the ushers got to the back row,
However,
Michael was up and out of his pew
Before Mia could do anything about it.
He got about six pews down the aisle
Before he realized
That his mother had been serious –
That she wasn’t going to Communion –
That she wasn’t with him –
And in that moment,
He stopped.
Turned around.
Looked directly at his mother.
Held out his right hand
And said –
Or rather shouted –
Loud enough for the whole congregation to hear –
Come on Mama. Jesus is waiting.
And in that moment,
Mia –
Lifted by something
Other than her own volition –
Got up from her pew,
Reached for her son’s outstretched hand,
And went forward to the table of grace.
When she told me
This story,
She told me that in Holy Communion
On that day –
For the first time in her life –
She believed in Hope.
Come on Mama.
Jesus is waiting.
It literally breaks my heart
To know that the hope
Which filled her on that day,
So many years later,
Escaped her.
But,
Tell my story,
She said.
If it will make a difference,
She said.
If it will help someone,
She said.
And so,
I have.
And I will.
And you,
Beloveds,
Whoever you are,
And whatever is happening
In your life
As you read this missive,
You matter.
Your story matters.
You are important.
You are precious,
And valued,
And important,
And loved.
Life can be hard.
It often doesn’t make sense.
Hope can be elusive –
But help is available.
Help.
Is.
Available.
The Suicide & Crisis Lifeline –
Is always available –
24 hours a day.
Seven days a week –
With free and confidential support.
Don’t hesitate to use it.
There is no shame is reaching out.
A listening ear will greet you on the other end of the line.
That’s a promise.
And if you
Are wondering what you
Or your Church
Can do,
How you can help
Someone who is struggling –
Has a host of resources
To assist you in playing a part
In the emotional well-being
Of one another.
Bearing one another’s burdens is,
Afterall,
Part of our vocation,
Our call
As followers of Jesus.
Tell my story,
She said.
It is my prayer,
That in telling my friend’s story,
Someone else’s story
Just might be renewed in
Hope.
May it be so.
Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox
Rev. Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox (affectionately known as “Char”) holds a Doctor of Ministry Degree from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, with an emphasis in Spirituality; a Master of Sacred Theology Degree from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, with an emphasis in Preaching and Worship, a Master of Divinity Degree from Luther Seminary, and a Bachelor of Arts Degree from Augustana University, Sioux Falls. She has served as a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America for over 28 years, serving in seminary, collegiate, and congregational settings. She loves reading – especially memoirs and historical fiction, and enjoys writing poetry, travelling, and all things winter.
Facebook | PrChar
Website | Charlene Rachuy Cox
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Hope Has You
Photo by Corey Hearne on Unsplash
I sit at my desk. A clean sheet of paper before me, a favorite pen in my hand, music streams in the background. On this late fall afternoon, sunlight floods through the stained-glass window in my office. The plan seemed simple: write an essay in which I would discuss ways and places for fellow leaders to find hope. I sit in this space for a good while, waiting until something comes, the way a poet might wait for a poem to arrive. I rise from my desk, and run my fingers against the smooth spines of the books on the shelf. I’ve read these volumes over the course of the pandemic. I’m drawn in by the titles, with words like burnout, loneliness, loss, stuck, and trauma. I look to another shelf. One asks whether the Lord’s Supper can rightly be celebrated online. An issue of a journal leans against it, the theme’s focus is around what the new normal will look like. A few novels I had yet to read taunt me. Bonhoeffer’s Discipleship, Letters and Papers from Prison, and Life Together stand next to a memoir about anxiety. Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time rests next to a volume of Luther’s Works. In my car, a list of podcasts flashes on the screen, ready to play with the push of my finger. Travel times are quicker because so many people now work from home. There doesn’t seem to be enough time to either listen in or pay attention. There’s barely a moment to breathe.
Each resource released into the world is meant to bring leaders help as we navigate pandemic realities. But where can leaders turn when the waters we navigate flow over our heads? Where can we turn when it feels as though there is no help – as though no one understands what we’re going through? What do we do when the hope we proclaim evaporates like steam before us?
At an appointment with a new physician, I’m asked what I do for a living. When I tell the doctor, she takes off her glasses and sits down next to me. She confides I’m not the first church leader she’s seen in the clinic during the pandemic. “I’m sure that’s true,” I said, and meant it. “So much depression and anxiety among church workers,” she said. “So much pressure.” I nod my head in agreement. “So many opinions to negotiate.” I agreed. “And the politics – as if the health of the congregation is somehow wrapped up in one’s political perspective.”
A familiar heaviness began to pulse within me. “Yes,” I said. “And for the life of me, I can’t find any hope anymore.” The doctor put down her glasses and leaned in. “How are you?” I felt her compassion and concern in the question. “I’m fine,” I said. This was a complete lie. I wanted to tell her that a series of text messages and anonymous notes left on my desk triggered memories from an traumatic childhood for which I had previously received a good amount of therapy. As a result, these things set loose a spiral of anxiety and despair I thought I’d never come out from. But I couldn’t locate the hope within me that would allow for me to tell the truth about how I was doing.
Eventually, hope was revealed to me once more in a hospital where I stayed for a week. It came through the voice of a paramedic (his name was Jésus – I’m not even kidding) who preached to me in the back of an ambulance, a nurse who declared me a child of God the first moment she met me, and a doctor who heard me tell my story many times over. “You are not what they say about you.” But what if I was? “You’re not,” he said. Later, he turned this into a question for me – one he’d ask with a smile. “Are you what they say of you,” he asked? “Hell no,” I said, and smiled.
But it was more than that. It was also the conversations I had with others that week – my friends, my family, and my wife. And, I began to listen again to and for God in the prayers I surprised myself by praying. It was in the middle-of-the-night check-ins the nurses did to make sure everything was alright. It was in the freedom to laugh, cry, to express doubts and fears, to name the pain and to find constructive ways to address what stirred within me. It was in the vulnerable stare in the mirror each morning and evening as I made the sign of the cross on my forehead, and reminded myself that whatever else was – and wasn’t – true about me, the one thing most true about me is that I’m a beloved child of God. Say it with me: I am a child of God.
I continue to be captivated by the story of the Road to Emmaus from Luke’s Gospel. There are two on the road, but only one is named. Could it be, as a former seminary professor once said, that the absence of a name in this story is so we can find ourselves in what unfolds there. You also are on the road. You’ve borne witness to a terrible catastrophe. You don’t know what to make of it. All you turn can do is turn toward Emmaus. The two of you try to make meaning of what has occurred. Yet, the language you have for these things doesn’t feel adequate. You don’t feel adequate to lead because of all that’s happened. Still, a stranger walks among you, asks you what’s happened, speaks into the silence. You invite them in to join you for dinner. This One speaks through bread broken and blood poured out for you. Your eyes are opened. Your heart beats once again in the rhythm of grace. You realize once more what has always been true. Hope isn’t something you have. Hope has you.
Paul Lutter
Paul Lutter is an ELCA interim pastor, writer, and teacher. He lives with his family in Plymouth, MN.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Give Me Jesus! (Welcome Back To A Crazy World)
The following is a transcript of the sermon of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry at the House of Bishops of The Episcopal Church, meeting in retreat at Camp Allen, Navasota, Texas, through March 21. These remarks have been lightly edited for clarity.
Welcome Back
In the name of our loving, liberating and life-giving God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Some of y’all remember the TV show “Welcome Back, Kotter”? Welcome back, Kotter. Welcome, bishops. Welcome back, in person. It feels like a modified exile. And in one sense, I suppose it has been. COVID, racial reckoning, an attempted overthrow of the government of the United States. And now a world that hasn’t been this close to self-destruction since the Cuban missile crisis. But welcome back anyway.
So when I saw the lessons that had been appointed—because I love lectionaries. You can love in a dialectical sort of way. When I saw the lessons that were appointed for today, I said, “Those are good lessons.” But I think I heard the Spirit, maybe. I won’t blame it on the Spirit. Something said, “I got another text for you.” And this is a welcome back text. Words of Jesus found in the 11th chapter of Matthew:
“Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for my yoke is easy.” It’ll fit, because my burden is light.
Come unto me, all ye who were bishops before this pandemic, and all ye, [inaudible] bishops who were consecrated during the pandemic. Come unto me, all ye who have been consecrated since then and all who soon will be. Come unto me, Episcopal Church. Come unto me, people who follow in my way and claim the name Christian. Come unto me whosoever will, who are weary, tired, beaten down, worn out, COVID crazy, right? Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke. Instead of the yoke that’s imposed on you from this world, take my yoke and learn from me. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is not slavery. It’s freedom.
An old spiritual said it this way, “In the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise, give me Jesus. When it’s time for me to die, when it’s time for me to die, when it’s time for me to die, just give me Jesus. Give me Jesus. Give me Jesus. You can have all this world. Just give me Jesus” (paraphrased). Come unto me, he said. Or as he would’ve said in south of Judah, y’all come. Come.
All we got was Jesus
That spiritual, you can have all the world, give me Jesus, I’ve known it all my life. It’s kind of like the Lord’s prayer. I don’t remember when I didn’t know it. And I think I know it because it tended to get sung at family funerals, at least at the Baptist side of my family. Not at the Episcopal side. Those funerals were so short, they’re not memorable, but anyway, oops.
But in the Baptist side of my family, the Pentecostal Holiness side of my family, that was always sung. You can have all this world, give me Jesus. I suspect that’s where I heard it, but I remember at one particular funeral—this would’ve been the summer of 1969, I believe. The funeral had been at 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, where my Aunt Callie taught Sunday school. And she had gone on the glory, and so the whole family trucked to Birmingham for a funeral. And then we buried her out in the country and came back to Birmingham for the family repast after the funeral.
I don’t know if y’all’s families are like this. I don’t know if this is an ethnic thing or not. I have no idea. But usually the repast is the time folk tell stories, and that’s what people do at funerals anyway. They tell stories and lies, and usually critique the preacher. Because sometimes the preachers will preach folk into heaven and say, “Oh, so and so, oh, he was a saint. He was a…” And we say, “You know, we loved uncle so and so, but we knew him. He wasn’t no saint now.”
But anyway, folk would come back. And then in my family, on my father’s side, folk, they would debate politics, and sports, and the Bible. On this one occasion, this was 1968, the summer of ‘68, Dr. King had been assassinated. Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated. Medgar Evers. Viola Liuzzo. John Kennedy, a president. And one of my cousins got in a debate, a polite debate, because in those day you didn’t talk back to the elders. A polite debate with one of my uncles who was a preacher, Baptist preacher. And he said, “You know, I’m tired of hearing folks sing that song, ‘You can have all this world, just give me Jesus.’” And he said, “That’s exactly what our folk got. We’ve been singing that song. You can have all this world, and somebody else got the world and all we got was Jesus.”
And I don’t remember how the debate ended, but needless to say, my uncle was not pleased. But it was like what Desmond Tutu said about Southern Africa, he said, “When the missionaries came, they had the Bible and we had the land. Next thing we knew, we had the Bible, and they had the land.” Something was wrong with that deal. We love the Bible, but how about Bible and land?
My cousin had a point, that religion sometimes can be an opiate of the people. It can be twisted and distorted and misused to a narcotic, to keep people from rising up and claiming their God-given rights and human dignity. Although it has been used before, but I believe that old song has a deeper wisdom. “You can have all this world, just give me Jesus.” See, don’t underestimate the power of that which is authentically spiritual. Because if it is authentically of the spirit, it is of God. Don’t underestimate that. It may take its time. As the old preachers say, “It may not be on your time.” It may not happen on my time, but when God’s will is done on earth, as it is in heaven, it is always on time.
The power of hope
Don’t underestimate the power of hope. Dante warned us, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,” over the gates of hell. Don’t underestimate the power of faith. Don’t underestimate the power of love. Don’t underestimate the spiritual. People who believe. People got God. They will make it against all the odds. If you don’t believe me, ask the folk of Ukraine. Help me, somebody. Mary Glasspool gave this to me right before the Eucharist. It is a candle, adorned. She got it from a Ukrainian shop in New York. Don’t, Putin, oh, I’m going to get in trouble. I know I’m going to get in trouble with what I’m about to say. Putin may overrun the country, but he will not defeat the people of Ukraine. He will not. Spirit will always win over flesh. It may not be in the forecast time, but it’s real.
In 1853, Theodore Parker, an abolitionist, when it looked like slavery would never end in this country, said, and I quote, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc seems to be a long one, but from what I can see it bends toward justice.” Dr. King shortened it and said, “The moral arc of the universe is long, but it is bent toward justice.” Not because of some metaphysical magic, but because there is a God. And if there is a God, then there is hope. If there is a God, then there can be faith. And if there is a God, as my Bible says, who is love, then in the end, no matter what we have to go through now, in the end, love is going to win. If there’s a God, love is going to win.
Pray for Ukraine. Don’t give up on them. Do other things, send money to the refugees—Episcopal Relief & Development is working with other Christian groups in Hungary and in Eastern Europe. So get folk to send money. This is a commercial. Am I on TV somewhere here? Get the money to Episcopal Relief & Development. And there may be other things we can do, but do not abandon them without prayer. Pray. Pray for Ukraine. Pray for Russia. Pray for Putin, that unlike Pharaoh his hardened heart may be turned.
And if it doesn’t turn, pray for the leaders of the nations, that they will have moral courage, spiritual wisdom to do what is right, to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. Don’t abandon prayer now. Pray for the children of Ukraine. I love, I got to tell this, I have fallen in love with the people of Ukraine. First of all, they cuss better than anybody else I have … I mean, they have invented some cussing that wasn’t there. They are incredible. I can’t say some of the words that they … There was a group of little old ladies who looked like a prayer group on CNN, and they asked them, “What do you think of Putin?” And I think it was “glossolalia,” some unknown tongue, because they got to cussing and saying all sorts of stuff.
But these are remarkable people. Their spirit, they just want to free. They just want to be free. And the truth of the matter is, Thomas Jefferson, he had his issues like the lesson that we just had from Matthew 23, where Jesus said, “Do what the scribes and pharisees say, don’t do what they do.” When it comes to Thomas Jefferson, don’t do what he did, but he was right: “We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men”—all people—”are created equal.” Thomas Jefferson said the God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time. And that is true for everybody. The people of Ukraine just want to be free.
He made us all to be free
I’m not going to talk long this morning, but I ain’t seen y’all in person in a long time. You don’t know. You have no idea how glad I am to see you all. You have no idea. Oh, dear Lord. I remember this would’ve been, well, probably 1960, and I went to the movie with my daddy. And we went to see “Exodus.” It was based on Leon Uris’ book, “Exodus.” And now we understand that’s a complex story, more complex than we understood in 1960. I understand all of that, so don’t go political on me right now. But it is the story of people seeking freedom.
At the end of the movie, we went out and daddy just blurted out—it was really fascinating now that I think about it—he just said, “The Lord didn’t make anybody to be under anybody’s boot. He made us all to be free.” All of us. He was right. He made the people of Ukraine to be free. Not free for licentiousness, but free to be all that God intends for us to be. But freedom, stay with me, freedom is a spiritual reality. You see where I’m going now? Don’t underestimate the power for freedom, said St. Paul. “Christ has set us free. Stand fast and do not accept the yoke of slavery again.” That’s St. Paul. That’s in the Bible. And it ain’t just talking about personal sin. It’s talking about that, but it’s talking about for freedom, Christ has set us free.
Those slaves used to sing a spiritual. It said, “Oh, freedom. Oh, freedom. Oh, freedom over me. And before I’ll be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.”
Did you catch that? Somebody who is legally chattel property, somebody who by every political socioeconomic reality of this world—stay with me—is a slave, declaring, “I’m not a slave. Before I’ll be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” Oh, this spiritual thing, this business we are, this is powerful stuff. It can set the captive free, even when the world would enslave. Jesus says, “Come unto me. Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden.”
I don’t know if it’s just because I’m 69, but I’m not lying. I’m tired. But I’m feeling good this morning because I see you all. Yeah, we’re all kind of tired. And folk in church, I call it COVID crazy. Everybody’s a little bit on edge and folk acting out in ways that… Have you noticed a pattern? Yeah, I don’t know if it’s just Christian COVID crazy or if it’s human COVID crazy. And I got to go to the meeting with the primates of the Anglican communion right after this meeting . . . I don’t know what to expect in that, but I’m looking forward to a great, getting-up morning. But nonetheless, I mean the truth is everybody, there is a weariness, and you have been frontline folk even on Zoom. And our clergy have been frontline folk. And they’re tired. And the world is giving us no rest.
Jesus says, come unto me all who are weary, heaven laden and beaten down by the realities of this world. Take my yoke. Take my way of life and love. Take what I’m trying to teach you. Take my yoke upon you. Learn from me. Don’t you know? Oh, Cynthia Bourgeault is coming. You all got to know Jesus is Sophia’s child. “Learn from me for my yoke is easy.” That Greek, where it doesn’t mean it’s easy. What was that? “Ease on down, ease on down the road” (singing). This is not that. No. Easy means it fits. It was made for you. My yoke is easy. It was made to make human life human as God dreamed and intended. It fits. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. And you will find rest. Did you catch this? Rest. God’s eternal Sabbath rest for your soul.
I read [Walter] Brueggemann’s book, “Sabbath as Resistance,” or at least most of the part I could understand. Rob Wright turned me on to Brueggemann. He understands it. Lot of times I just go, that’s deep. I don’t know what he was talking about, but it’s deep. But at one point, the one part I did understand was when Brueggemann said, “When God rested on the Sabbath, the seventh day, it is rest in one sense. But, it also means that everything,” stay with me, I’m coming at something, “is in its right relationship and proportion. It is as God intended it to be.” That’s when everything is at rest and God saw after the Sabbath was made, everything that God had made, including Sabbath rest. And God said, “Oh, that is showing off good.” Or as George Jefferson used to say, you all remember “The Jeffersons”? When George did something right, he used to pat himself on the back and say, “Good one, George.”
God kind of said, “This is a good one.” When the world is the way I intended it to be. When all things are consistent with the created order. When love is the law of the creation. When the creation is cared for. When there’s room for all of God’s children. And God rested and said, “It is good.” Oh, you can have all this world. You all see this? Is this making some sense? Just give me Jesus. Well, I’m really going to bring this home. I really am now.
Legality giving way to love
As many of you know, this past January, Dr. Charles Willie, who served at one time as the vice president of the House of Deputies in the 1970s, and who was, oh yeah, you know him well, yeah. I mean, Jennifer (Baskerville-Burrows) would know him from Syracuse, from Grace Church. But Dr. Charles Willie, who was a lifelong Episcopalian from Dallas, Texas, he died and entered life eternal in January. And that has been the case with many who have gone on to glory during the COVID pandemic; funerals are delayed. And so I got a note, an email from Byron Rushing, our current vice president of the House of Deputies, just Sunday, saying that the family’s having a memorial service for him this coming Saturday, in light of the fact that the omicron spread was happening in January.
When I got that note from Byron, I thought about Dr. Willie, and remembered that he was an African American child born and reared here in Texas a long time ago. His mama was a teacher, but not allowed to teach in the public schools because of Jim Crow. Daddy was a Pullman car porter. My granddaddy was a Pullman porter. Went with A. Philip Randolph to the march on Washington in the ‘40s. I wish I had asked him when I was a little kid, what was all that like? Dr. Willie was, Arthur Williams would know Dr. Willie, was a great person, committed Episcopalian, lifelong. He was somebody who devised these segregation plans that were used in a number of cities in this country that actually worked. He was a sociologist who challenged the prevailing notions about the inadequacies of the Black family. And he statistically verified that frankly, that the survival of the Black family was a miracle. A miracle. He was a remarkable guy, not only in his career as an academician, but in his churchmanship and his commitment to Jesus Christ and his church.
He became the vice president of the House of Deputies. And Byron Rushing, in an article, said this, “Black Episcopalians were both proud of Chuck being elected first African American to the Executive Council and vice president of the House of Deputies.” They were so proud because you cannot imagine and cannot overemphasize how racially segregated The Episcopal Church was before the 1970s. It was a stunning reality. Dr. Willie believed that God made all people equal. He believed that the “imago Dei,” the image of God that is conferred upon every human being, is a conferral of infinite value and worth of every human child of God. And that imago Dei is equally distributed upon everybody. Nobody’s got a little bit more of imago Dei than anybody else. Nobody got no more superiority of that imago Dei than anybody else. This is God’s image. This is God’s likeness. This is the God who is love, conferring his dignity and words on every human child of God. And Dr. Willie came to believe that if this was true for his African American community, this must be true for everybody.
And in 1974, he preached at the ordination of the Philadelphia 11. And when the House of Bishops spoke against him, I know I’m getting in trouble, but I’m 69 now. When the House spoke—and we respect people’s opinions, don’t misunderstand me, please—the voices and the chorus against him, and the tide turned against him. And he found himself receiving criticism from Blacks and whites alike. Black folk were upset because he could have been the first Black president of the House of Deputies. And others had their reasons.
But he believed in it, in the God who is love and who is an equal opportunity lover. And so he resigned as vice president of the House of Deputies. And this is what he said to explain this decision, and I quote, “An officer is a servant of the people who attend to the collective life and the rules and regulations developed by that community or association for its life. Either I had to enforce sexist laws, or I had to get the church to change them, or I had to resign as vice president of the House of Deputies. It was the only path of integrity.” And then listen to this: “I could not act like Pilate and do what I knew was wrong. I could not segregate, alienate, and discriminate against women simply because it was legal to do this and yet somehow claim to be acting in love. When that which is legal and that which is loving are in contention, legality must give way to love. I decided not to be Pontius Pilate.”
That, my friends, is a profile in courage. That, my friends, is someone who chose Jesus and not the way of the world. And don’t misunderstand me. Courage comes in conservative stripes as well as liberal ones. Courage comes in all colors. Courage comes in all kinds. Courage comes in all shapes.
For all who have been baptized into Christ and put on Christ, and there is no more slave or free. There is no more male or female. There is no more Jew or Greek, for all are one in Christ. And those who are in Christ, they shall wait upon the Lord. They shall mount up on wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and they will not faint. Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
(singing)
“You can have all this world,
Give me Jesus!
In the morning when I rise,
In the morning when I rise,
In the morning when I rise,
Give me Jesus!
Give me Jesus!
Give me Jesus!
You can have all this world,
Give me Jesus!”
Welcome back.
Amen.
Shared with permission by the Office of the Right Reverend Michael B. Curry, The Episcopal Church, in its entirety. The Most Rev. Michael Curry is the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church and the author of the book "Love Is the Way: Holding On to Hope in Troubling Times".
Bishop Michael Curry
The Most Rev. Michael B. Curry is Presiding Bishop and Primate of The Episcopal Church. He is the Chief Pastor and serves as President and Chief Executive Officer, and as Chair of the Executive Council of The Episcopal Church.
Facebook | @PBMBCurry
Twitter | @BishopCurry
Twitter | @episcopalchurch
Facebook | @episcopalian
We know how hard it is to find a Bible study that can be used easily in any context. Our premise is simple: Ignite curiosity in the Bible through generous invitation, fresh witness, and breathtaking video. Download episode 1 for free and see what it’s all about.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Being Church Today: Leadership and Resiliency
As we face crises of public health, racial inequality, and economic turmoil, Church Anew sought to help pastors, church leaders, and congregation members harness resiliency to respond to the immediacy of these issues.
We asked ourselves, “How can we set the table for mutual learning in this moment?”
We found an answer in our first virtual event, Being Church Today, presented online on Monday, August 17 and now available through on-demand access. The event gathered a diverse set of nationally-recognized thought leaders that gave personal, action-inspiring seven-minute presentations from their own homes on the most pressing issues of our time. Over 1,500 clergy, church staff, and volunteers registered for this event, looking for guidance, dialogue, and community in a digital environment.
Award-winning author and speaker Diana Butler Bass opened her presentation with a question:
Diana Butler Bass
“What do we do? How do we lead? What is that authentic place of leadership? I've wondered about this in my own life. And I've thought a lot about different verses that have framed my understanding of who I am as a Christian, and they have served as powerful guides when I have felt lost or needed something to lean into as a leader.”
Dr. Butler Bass cites Galatians 3:28 as her verse of guidance: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”
This creed and statement of faith was about the struggle of the church against bigotry, slavery, and sexism. It affirmed the identity of the Christian community as people who stood against barriers of class division, ethnicity, and gender.
Dr. Joy Moore
Likewise, Dr. Joy Moore, Vice President of Academic Affairs and Academic Dean of Luther Seminary, referenced this passage in her talk as well:
“Paul begins to dismantle the very systems of the ancient culture, the caste system, the class system, slave and free, ... the only thing that matters is this lasting mandate that humanity is created to bear the image of God.”
Being Church Today also featured speakers such as Rev. Emmy Kegler of Grace Lutheran Church in Northeast Minneapolis who spoke about complacency in the church, particularly in leadership:
Rev. Emmy Kegler
When we are unwilling to be uncomfortable, we perpetuate violence against those on the margins. We teach girls to be quiet about their abuse. We refuse to be the one person who can make a 29 percent difference in trans youth suicidal ideation. We raise and confirm Dylann Roof.
And with that recognition came a challenge:
“So for a moment, I want you to reflect: how are you willing to be uncomfortable? Then I want you to hear, don't do that. Because we have been following our wills and where we are willing to be uncomfortable for far too long. Instead, the question I want to commission you with is: where does God's world need you to be uncomfortable?”
Church Anew hopes to help congregations thrive today and in the years to come by investing in sustained involvement in the communities they serve.
By being a voice for justice both in the church and out in the streets, pastors, staff, and volunteers can lead with their actions and actively encourage understanding and inclusion in their congregation members, engaging new people along the way.
Brian McLaren
Nationally-renowned author and friend of Church Anew, Brian McLaren, called on us to be more inclusive, to push boundaries, and care for our earth:
To be church today means to rediscover the revolutionary message of Jesus for people in a catastrophic situation. Not an evacuation plan about leaving earth or heaven when you die. But a transformation plan about loving God, yourself, your neighbor, and this precious Earth.
Referencing the late John Lewis, McLaren encouraged attendees to make “Good Trouble” and included people on the margins.
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal Church sought to answer the question: What is the specific contribution of the church in this moment?
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry
“What can churches do in such a time as this? Churches can bear witness to the fate they hold in the way of Jesus of Nazareth, his way of love, unselfish, sacrificial love, as the way to the very heart of God, into each other's hearts as the way to life.”
Paraphrasing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Bishop Curry cautioned us:
“We will either learn to live together as brothers and sisters, or we will perish together as fools. The choice is ours: chaos or community.”
Maybe you are inspired by the words of these speakers, but wonder how to sustain momentum. Tyler Sit, church planter of New City Church in Minneapolis, reminded us there is resilience in nurturing the energy necessary to bring about positive change in your community:
Rev. Tyler Sit
“What we wanted to prevent was this bump of reactive energy that fizzled out and then everyone just went back to normal … Christians are particularly positioned as people of resurrection to have a hope that on the other side of discomfort, there's a new world that God is making for us.”
Another six distinguished speakers as well as local Minneapolis artists and leaders spoke to the challenges we face and the actions we can take in this moment. The event also featured a live chatbox where attendees connected and shared the communities they came from, how the presentations challenged them, and what they will bring back to their own congregations.
Church Anew is drawing upon the wisdom and mutual learning from our communities to forge resiliency and the courage to take action.
By equipping leaders and community members with tangible ways to address grief, division, and uncertainty, we can move closer toward God’s beloved community.
This only scratches the surface of the practical and thought-provoking content offered in this event. On-demand access to the recording is still available for $49. Keep an eye out for upcoming virtual conferences as well as the Church Anew Blog to strengthen our relationships with each other, ourselves, and God.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Images of Love, Hope, and Unity Surround Kenosha
'Love is the answer' painted on plywood walls in Kenosha, Wisconsin, photographed by Veronica King.
Ugly tan plywood appeared on windows around the city of Kenosha in the aftermath of the shooting of Jacob Blake on August 23, as the city braced for protests and potential damage to property. In response, a group called Kenosha Creative Space came up with the idea of encouraging residents of the city to paint the plywood with the themes of Love, Hope, and Unity, and soon, what was an idea became a reflection of a city grappling with violence responding in a way that did not diminish the pain, but insisted on a better future.
Veronica King was one Kenosha resident who loved the result. As King drove around the city, she noticed how many of the images contained scripture passages and she began to photograph them and share them on Facebook as part of her work with Congregations to Serve Humanity (CUSH), an Interfaith organization in Kenosha where she is Vice President. “This is one way to help begin the healing of our community,” says King, describing the messages and images of hope.
Another part of healing came through an Interfaith prayers service held at Second Baptist Church of Kenosha on Sunday afternoon outside of one of the churches that is a member of CUSH. On a sunny, warm afternoon, religious leaders from Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Episcopal Baptist, and other traditions gathered outdoors at a safe social distance to offer prayers of hope and show interfaith solidarity in this difficult time in their community.
CUSH is focused on love and healing but also on acknowledging the persistence of racism that afflicts the city. In a statement on their website they also insist that prayers are not enough and the time is now to act:
We know that hopes and prayers are not enough to stop a speeding bullet or to counteract centuries’ worth of systemic racism and the calculated oppression of our siblings of color so ubiquitous in this nation’s history that many of the privileged among us still do not recognize it even exists. We know that in addition to the hope of our hearts and the prayers of our souls we must act.
“We can live peacefully and safely if we work together, to work through our differences, get rid of systemic racism and have a strategic plan to move forward,” King further explained, emphasizing that CUSH is working with the Mayor’s office along with the Chief of Police and other community leaders to help bring the faith voice, and increased diversity to the committees that are being formed to address racism and to heal the city.
Veronica King brings her own history as a community leader to the effort as the former local NAACP chapter president, as well as her history as a social worker, a profession she decided upon when she was 10 years old and had a dedicated social worker who would check on her monthly at her foster home. King’s work with faith communities started with her own foster parents who were active in their church who offered her “Footing and my grounding."
Even as people come from the outside, eager to disrupt with a rhetoric of division and acts of violence, Veronica King and so many other residents in the Interfaith and artistic communities are working hard to fight against racial injustice and heal Kenosha with hope, love, and unity.
This post originally appeared on IFYC.org, September 1, 2020, and is used with permission.
Religious leaders of diverse faiths offer prayers and reflections at the CUSH Interfaith prayer service held at the Second Baptist Church of Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Messages of peace painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Messages of hope painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
#KenoshaStrong painted on a banner hangs over the ruins of a building, and another painted wall portrays a message from scriptures.
An MLK quote and messages of peace and love are painted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Scriptures quoted on walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Scripture quotes and message of strength and resilience painted around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of Love, Unity, Justice, painted on brick walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Paintings of love and hope around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Black Lives Matter and messages of unity painted on plywood walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of love and peace around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paintings of love and equality on plywood walls around Kenosha, Wisconsin
Messages of the power of love painted on plywood walls across Kenosha, Wisconsin
Paul Raushenbush
Paul Raushenbush is Senior Advisor for Public Affairs and Innovation at IFYC (Interfaith Youth Core) promoting a narrative of positive pluralism in America, while researching and developing cutting edge interfaith leadership. He is the Editor of Interfaith America.
Facebook | @raushenbush
Twitter | @raushenbush
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
Rise Up: A Four Week Preaching Series
Church Anew is excited to provide practical resources to preachers and other church leaders including curricula, sermon series, and ministry ideas to spark imagination for your congregation. These are free to adapt and use in your context, with your people.
This sermon series has been adapted from use at St. Andrew Lutheran Church, where it was used in May and June of 2020. These texts have provided a Spirit-filled online worship series for our community, and we hope that the adaptations made make it possible for you to use in your congregation as well. The descriptions of each week are not intended to provide rigorous textual analysis, but rather to ignite biblical imagination for preachers and faithful people.
Rise Up: Sermon Series Overview
Rise up. From a song by singer/songwriter, Andra Day, that might as well be an anthem for this moment:
“When the silence isn’t quiet
and it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe
and I know you feel like dying
But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet
and move mountains.”
Uprising is happening all around us. People on the streets, calling for a more just world. People in their homes, rising above the quarantine to love their neighbor. In this sermon series, we will closely study the story of the prophet Elijah from the Old Testament book of 1 Kings. This prophet enters a book that tells the national history of the people of Israel, chronicling the rise and fall of Israel’s kings.
What can at times read like an ancient piece of national propaganda is radically interrupted by a narrative that takes a completely different turn. Elijah enters the story uninvited as “the troubler of Israel” (1 Kings 18:17). Together, we will study this ancient book and listen for God’s voice in acts of overwhelming kindness from a widow, dramatic debates with political leaders, displays of God’s commitment, and even the sound of sheer silence.
Week One: From Death to Life
1 Kings 17: 7-16 (and if time, 17-24)
Every hero has a backstory. Every prophet has a call story. Elijah’s call story comes when he is confronted by the suffering left in the wake of the political regime of Israel. Elijah doesn’t encounter this theoretically by reading a newspaper account or reading about it on Twitter. Rather, the Widow of Zarephath articulates the injustice in her being. Indeed it was the responsibility of the political leaders, the king, to care for the widows, orphans, and immigrants in the land. But it is God who brings life from death—food for the hungry, resurrection for the sick. Elijah’s short speech provide words to live by: “Do not be afraid.” If we name our fear, it no longer has power over us.
Week Two: From Fear to Hope
1 Kings 18: 1-10; 17-19
Elijah’s short sermon from last week (“Do not be afraid”) creates new possibilities in all of his interactions. As Walter Brueggemann writes, “This authorized utterance creates a new circumstance and a new prospect for well-being, especially among those who have no alternative resources of hope.”[1] The king is on the lookout for the prophet, calling him a “troubler of Israel.” Elijah’s curt response indicts the king on behalf of the widow and all those whom the government has left behind—forsaking the law is forsaking the call to care for the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant in the land. In a dramatic encounter with the most powerful person in the land, Elijah’s confidence creates a new possibility for well-being, and even for hope.
Week Three: From Unanswered to Eternally Spoken
1 Kings 18: 20-40
The prophets of Baal and the prophet Elijah stand for a showdown. Whose god will answer their prayers? This passage has a rhythm as Elijah taunts the other prophets: “How long will you go limping with two different opinions?” You can’t have it both ways! The prophets of Baal receive no response, no answer, no voice. Elijah’s speech, once again creates new possibility: “Answer me, O Lord, so that this people may know that you … have turned their hearts back.” In this dramatic display of God’s ongoing care of the people, we can trust that God will not go without voice. We follow a God with a living Word.
Week Four: From Justice to Peace
1 Kings 19: 9-13
A common chant in the protests these weeks has been, “No justice. No peace.” Some may read this text and hear God’s presence “in the sound of sheer silence” as a peaceful, airy sound. But this peace only comes through fire, earthquake, and hurricane winds. Elijah’s persistent call for justice for God’s people ends with a question that haunts us even today: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” What are each of us doing here? How are each of us responding to the call that comes uninvited, unbidden, and at times unwelcome?
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.